


Inside out

by tatch



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, Biting, Cyborg Soldier 76, Family Feels, Fluff and Smut, For parts that didn't fit in the story but needed explained, I won’t tag who is in what part of the a/b/o spectrum, If you have doubts come in comments to ask, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Jesse is Jack and Gabe’s son in all but name and blood, M/M, Marking, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Minor Trans-spectrum character, No-one is blameless, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Nothing is Black or White, POV Multiple, Past McGenji, Pharah/D.va, Sombra/Amélie, Some events appear to happen the same way but they don’t really, Some explaination in the notes at the end of each chapter, Talon is Talon but isn’t Talon, Talon!Soldier 76, Team as Family, The minor bg relationships are among others, Unreliable Narrator, but with minor aesthetic alterations, in chapter 4, light bleeding, oh and all the smut tags, pack as family, past moicy, right - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-28 19:08:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15713277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatch/pseuds/tatch
Summary: While raiding a Talon base, Ana Amari and her team discover that Jack Morrison is still alive. They bring him back with them to Watchpoint Gibraltar, uncertain of whether he can be trusted ...





	1. The other side of the coin

**Author's Note:**

> My entry for the Reaper76 BB!!
> 
> I worked with Zenyr (ZenyrAH @ twitter) and Niko (nikorys @ tumblr, nikoblasto @ twitter) for this round, it's been fun :3
> 
>  
> 
> This is an idea I've had in mind for a while, and while it's far from being the full story of how Jack and Gabe got where they are today (in this story) it was a story that needed to be told.
> 
> I hope you have as much fun reading this as I've had writing it!  
> Updates: One chapter per day until the four chapters have been posted

 

Raiding the base is easy. The remaining Talon agents are easily taken care of. Remaining, yes, because considering the size of the place, there should be a lot more people. As it is, the dozen or so agents they encounter are barely enough to oppose any real resistance.

 

Once the hostiles have been cuffed and left under Fareeha and Hana's supervision, the rest of the team Ana picked for this mission separates into two groups. Jesse and Reinhardt move toward what appears to be offices and labs and, Ana and Lucio head to what looks like the base's personal living quarters.

 

There's a surprising lot of accommodations. And good ones at that. Communal showers, each stall separated by walls and colorful shower curtains. One of them even features a giant squid sinking a ship. At least two communal rooms, one containing a restored arcade, and a foosball table; the other, a pool table. Both have a bar and couches that look extremely comfortable.

 

Lucio whistles appreciatively. "They're housed waaay better than us, wow." Ana nods, her lips pinched. The next room is a gym, a big one at that. Treadmills, mats, a sparring ring. There's also something that looks like a shooting range, further around the back. As soon as Ana approaches, the range lights up and a small panel comes out of the ground, a holoscreen offering three options. Training. Simulation. High scores. She almost wonders why they keep such records. This- This whole place is nothing like what she envisioned a Talon base to be like. Ana shakes her head. Just because they treat their employees well doesn't mean Talon doesn't deserve to be burned to the ground. Exterminated and eradicated like the overgrown nuisance it is.

 

Lucio calls. "Hey, I found bedrooms!"

 

There are indeed, bedrooms. A whole building full of it. These aren't small, one room living quarters, no. Each room is closer to a small apartment than a simple, small, one room bedroom. This time, Lucio makes no comment but Ana can almost hear the 'Fuck, how come bad guys are treated so well? Not fair.' It wasn't. But Talon had money. Overwatch didn't. Even at its brightest, Overwatch had never had a tenth of Talon's funding, if the installations they are coming across are anything to go by. She shakes her head and they move forward, rapidly checking each room they come across.

 

The next four doors open on quarters that look pretty much the same.

 

The fifth one doesn't.

 

There’s no way Ana can call the space behind that door, a room. It’s closer to a big two-stories high apartment, stretching to an open door and a flight of stairs leading to two closed doors on the left; a comfortably open and spacey kitchen, with yet another flight of stairs that goes up to a mezzanine on the right. The center space is wide, with large, almost ceiling high windows. A well worn angular faux suede brown couch, one of its backs to the kitchen, the other to the windows. The projecting base of an holographic screen on the wall. And, for some reason, a surprisingly high number of orchids, succulents, potted plants- That center space almost looks like someone tried to recreate a greenhouse at home. Impressive. Somewhat humbling. But more importantly, why? Ana stares for a while, trying to come up with an explanation for it all and when she turns her head to check on her current partner, she finds that he seems stunned too, his brows raised in silent wonder.

 

Collecting themselves, they check the place for hostiles. Or intel they could use. Lucio moves and Ana watches his back, half expecting something to grab him. But he slides from kitchen to mezzanine without a hitch. Together, they then carefully check the open door to the left, discovering a wide bathroom, near empty save for a bathtub that could easily fit Reinhardt, with … a bench to the side of it, for an unknown reason. There’s a walk-in shower occupying the wall opposite to the door, towel racks to the side, sinks nearby. Everything needed in a bathroom, including a toilet separated from the room by a leaf engraved wooden screen.

 

Still no-one.

 

Which leaves only the closed doors up the stairs.

 

Halfway up that flight of stairs, Lucio stills and turns back to her, tapping his nose as it wrinkles with distaste. Someone’s scent. And judging by Lucio’s reaction, there’s nothing pleasant to that scent. Ana nods, the omega pops in a scent filter in each nostril and they silently move together up the stairs. Lucio points to to the closest of the two doors.

 

The scent comes from there.

 

Ana’s nose wouldn’t have picked on that scent as easily as his. But she’s a beta. Omegas more acute senses when it came to scents and sounds and all that.

 

They exchange nods and push the door open. It opens on a dark room and they both still.

 

The room reeks of distress and pain.

 

The scent is that of an alpha, recent layers of pain on top of older layers of distress and pain. Suddenly, Ana is very happy to be a beta, with far less sensitive noses than alphas and omegas. She can't imagine what the smell would be like to one of them. What it would have been like to Lucio. Thank god he put scent filters in.

 

Something that looks like a queen sized bed and on it, someone with arms that are glowing dimly. A muted orange. Sparks of yellow here and there.

 

_Soldier._

 

The Talon operative is dangerous. Dangerous doesn't cover it, to be honest.

_Why did we have to stumble upon him?_

Fuck.

 

Ana quietly clicks her comm three times, a signal to request back-up. She swallows and arms her rifle, and after a nod from Lucio who suddenly looks much more stressed, she slowly moves forward, until she's about two feet away from the bed. She waves at her companion, a quick sharp gesture and he turns the light on.

She doesn't expect to recognize the face of the man lying on the bed, curled on himself.

 

"Jack?"

 

His breath stutters and his eyes open, just barely, revealing glowing yellow on black (instead of deep blue on white). His frown is slow and confused and when he finally mumbles, his words come out slurred. "Ana...?"

 

She crouches down, cupping his face to both reassure him and check his heartbeat. It's a bit erratic, a bit fast, but strong. Jack is trying to look at her but his eyes are unfocused, the pupils blown, leaving only a barely visible ring of unnatural yellow.

 

"He's been drugged." Ana almost slams the butt of her rifle into Lucio, who silently slid behind her. She manages to contain herself, with a jerk and a flinch of surprise. The kid doesn't seem to realize. "Look." His voice is no longer cheerful, focused and concerned instead. He is pointing at the bedside table. There are easily three pills bottles, laying there, empty, except for the few pills left in a pile of mixed colors and shapes. And that's without counting the shapes of two more bottles under the bed, right at the edge of what's still visible.

 

Jack's eyelash flutter tiredly and he closes his eyes again.

 

"Hey hey, old friend, come on, stay with me," Ana whispers hurriedly.

"Ana's dead. You're jus' a dream..." The mumble drops her stomach.

 

She presses the first knuckle of her index against her lips. There's a scream at the back of her throat that wants out, but now's really not the time or place for that. So instead, she gets up briskly and starts pacing. She can tell Lucio's confused, giving her and Jack, Soldier, uncertain looks.

 

A jingle from the door, and right, fuck, she asked for back-up. Jesse and Rein are there. But the German doesn't come in. He's physically recoiling from the door, his whole body screaming of refusal. It takes her a second too long to understand. The scent. Reinhardt is already five steps away, only half of him still visible from the inside of the room, body tense, light shudders agitating him. How bad is it really, for a man as strong, forged in steel, hardened by countless battles, and yet still cheerful and light like a breeze despite everything, for someone like him to cower away like that.

 

"Is that Mor- Jack?" Jesse's voice is a bit too quiet, the hushed mutter dripping disbelief.

 

Ana nods, softly. "Looks like it."

 

Uncertainty hovers on Jesse’s face for a moment, before it's replaced by determination. "We gotta get him out of here. Those assholes have had him long enough." Ana can only agree with that."We should hurry,” she answers, brows furrowing, “I have a feeling it won't take Talon long to realize we're here."

 

Jesse nods and moves forward. They pull the covers away for Jesse to lift Jack up in his arms more easily. The former Strike-Commander is dressed with a pair of sweatpants (that seem too large to be his) and a sleeveless t-shirt (that hugs his shape a bit too closely. Probably not his either.) He doesn't move an inch when they pull the blankets away. His breath is a mix of short sharp breaths and longer ones, slower, deeper. His brows are furrowed a bit, as if he’s thinking of a problem or annoyed by something. Jack doesn’t move, but the whine he lets out when Jesse lifts him up bridal style is heart-breaking. He sounds so pained.

 

 

* * *

 

[Art by Niko](https://nikorys.tumblr.com/)

* * *

 

 

"Won’t be able to carry him all the way out." Jesse warns, and indeed, he's already struggling to stay up with his 'package'. Ana nods and swiftly, exits the room, motioning for Reinhardt to come closer. She can tell the alpha's tense but he approaches anyway.

 

"Jesse will carry him out of the room. You will need to carry him to the ship. And Reinhardt?" He tilts his head her way, though most of his attention remains focused on the room and the Jesse’s short breath and pants. "Please keep your questions for when we're safe again?" He stills and utters a sound that sounds questioning but then, Jesse exits the room. At the sight of Jack, Reinhardt makes a strangled sound and he moves forward, as if suddenly uncaring of the pungent scent seeping out of the room, as if his body had a mind of its own. Jesse stumbles but the crusader stabilizes him and relieves him of his burden. The exchange doesn't go quietly. Jack lets out a groan of pain as his position shifts. His fingers grip the collar of Rein's armor and dent it, his brows tightly knit together in pain.

 

Reinhardt goes very still. Ana sighs and rummages in her pocket, taking out one of her darts and darts Jack. It doesn't quite put him back to sleep but his eyelashes flutter and he releases Rein's armor from his grip. He lets go, his whole body loosening and becoming pliant and  somewhat relaxed. They exchange a few looks, Jesse calls for Lucio and as soon as the DJ exits the room, they get moving.

 

On the way back to the ship, Ana calls Fareeha and Hana to warn them, so that they can head back and start the engine in advance.

 

Ana wants to leave as soon as possible. The faster they vanish out of ‘Talon airspace’, the better.

 

She won't let them get their hands on Jack again.

 

He's alive.

He's safe.

He's with them now.

 

* * *

 

The flight back is tense.

 

Jesse keeps his gun ready, despite the soothing murmur Lucio throws his way. Ana said it was Jack and he’s willing to believe her, but that’s also Soldier, the Talon operative that broke his leg not four months ago.

 

He doesn’t know what happened for the Strike-Commander, for Reyes’ mate, for Jack to switch sides but it can’t have been pretty. If Jack has switched sides. Because what happened to Lacroix’s wife might have happened to Morrison. It’s hard to tell so far.

 

But if that’s the case, Jesse is ready to do what needs to be done.

 

He owes both Gabriel and Jack that much.

 

No, that’s not right.

 

He owes them so much more than this.

 

So, so much more than this.

 

But this, he thinks, eyes falling to his six-shooter, this is all he has.

 

The gun had been a gift from them,  an acknowledgment that Jesse was ready to bear the responsibility and the weight each pull of the trigger implied. If it comes to protecting the people Jack once called his friends, his family, against Jack himself, then Jesse will be sure to make his adoptive dads proud. It’s what they would have wanted, if it had ever come to things being this bad.

 

This, Jesse thinks, twisted bitterness squirming in his gut, in his chest, this all there’s left.

 

* * *

 

Jack only shifts once before they land, brows furrowing and Ana jabs another dart in his side to make sure he stays down.

 

She has seen the way Jesse looked at him, equal parts worry and readiness, hand wrapped firmly around his gun. Lucio has been trying to get him to calm down and put the gun away, but the musician doesn’t know. Neither him, nor Hana, not even Fareeha, know about the things Talon is capable of. None of them would understand the real reason for which Reinhardt is the one carrying Jack, or why Ana and Jesse haven’t holstered their weapons.

 

It may be nothing. She wants to believe it’s nothing. Wants to believe that Jack is okay.

 

But she remembers all too well finding Gérard’s body, the day after he’d been released from the hospital, bloodied and mauled with what indicated extreme prejudice. The investigation had concluded that whoever had murdered Gérard Lacroix had been very motivated to do so. And that had been shortly before- Before they’d figured out Amélie had been the one who’d done it.

 

Ana presses fingers to her eyepatch, remembering Amélie’s face, distorted by rage, blue skin, yellow eyes. She’d changed, so much.

 

Jack has changed too. Metal replacing flesh in too many places. Cold, unnaturally yellow eyes.

 

As much as she wants to hope that whatever had been done to turn the quiet and gentle Amélie Lacroix into a vicious killer hasn’t been done to Jack, there’s no way of knowing. Amélie had seemed fine, for- weeks. She knows, they know, Rein and Jesse and her, that for all their hopes, all their wishes, they have to be ready if that’s the case. If Jack is no longer … Jack.

 

And even if he is still Jack, the things that had been done to his body …

 

How far did it all go?

 

How much of him had been changed?

Replaced. Taken away.

 

_Oh, Gabriel, what have they done to him?_

 

* * *

 

Jack is still out of it when they land in Gibraltar, as Reinhardt carries him to the infirmary.

 

It breaks his heart to see his old friend like this, limp and weak in his arms as he stalks down the corridors in long strides, leaving everyone behind in his haste. Jack’s scent is so different, now that it’s void of Gabriel’s added scent. It’s still there, muted and metallic somehow, the faint honey and warmth, and something uniquely omega that never fails to remind Reinhardt of home, underneath the scent of pain and distress of an alpha, whoever he or she was.

 

The first time they’d met, Reinhardt coming to fill in the empty seat Balderich’s death had left, to be a part of the newly formed Overwatch, Reyes and Morrison had already smelled of each other. Alpha and omega, omega and alpha, scents so tightly knit and weaved together that it had been impossible to tell who was who, out of the two. Mates.

 

Not that figuring out who was who had mattered. Not for him. Not when their survival as a species hung in the balance of whether they lived to see and fight through another day.

 

Gabriel had been their tactician, their heavy hitter, their leader and Jack had been his second, every bit as lethal as his mate. Reinhardt had been their shield, the whole team’s shield, for years, decades, never faltering. And if he enjoyed Jack’s or Gabriel’s presence, their joined scent bringing back the memory of a warmth he’d thought lost with Balderich’s demise, no-one ever said anything about it.

 

He knows Gabriel had known that something was going on with him, noticed the sometimes thoughtful looks his friend had sent his way. But it had never been mentioned, never been discussed. Even on the day Jack had had to retire him, following protocol, expression tight with regret and unhappiness, even when Gabriel had surged from seemingly nowhere to hug him before his definitive leave. No-one had ever mentioned it.

 

They’d been his family, his home, for the longest time, accepting Reinhardt as he was, for all his qualities and flaws, his quirks and preferences.

 

They’d never asked questions. The least he’d done had been to return the favor.

 

“Reinhardt? What- _Is that Jack?!_ ” Angela’s voice cuts through Reinhardt’s train of thought.

 

Oh. Lost in his memories, he had not noticed he had already reached the infirmary. His chest rumbles when she reaches for his charge, protective instincts kicked into motion by the weakened and unconscious member of his pack he’s carrying.

 

“Reinhardt.” Ana’s voice, her scent, calming, grounding, reaches to him and he blinks. Swallows.

 

“He is too heavy for you to carry. Let me put him in a bed,” he says, trying to keep his voice low enough as to not wake Jack up. He can see the way Angela’s brows climb up as she hovers for a beat, hesitating as if wanting to say something, before guiding him inside and through the rooms that form the infirmary itself. She doesn’t get it. How could she? She’s not-

 

Not one of them.

 

When she stops inside a small patient room, Reinhardt lays Jack down on the bed, as gently as he can make it with the armor still on. His old friend frowns when his shoulders touch the mattress but the crease smooths away after a few seconds.

 

"Keep him under, Angela." Reinhardt looks up.

 

Ana's lips are pinched, her face tight with tension. "For now," she adds when the doctor opens her mouth to protest. He can see that Ana doesn't want to add more but Angie doesn't move, brows furrowed, hands on her hips, glaring. Ana lets out a sigh, her eyes turning to Jack before locking with Reinhardt's. "We don't know how far the changes run, under the surface. It's better this way."

 

"I can run scans, blood-work," Angela offers, voice holding that note of distance indicating she's already mentally subjecting Jack to half a dozen tests.

 

Reinhardt chimes in gently, before Ana's temper can flare. "She was talking about his mind, my friend. We found him in a Talon base, and the last time we rescued someone from a Talon base..."

 

He can see realization dawn in Angela's eyes.

 

"Amélie," she murmurs, her gaze landing on Jack. "Do you really think..." she starts again after a moment but the solemn expression on both their faces cuts her off. Angela swallows. Nods. "I'll get through as much of the physical examination as I can with him still unconscious. But," she adds, tone professional once more, "I recommend that he wakes up in a familiar environment, surrounded by people he knows, friends, family, pack members. Not in here. If _this_ was forced onto him..."

 

Silence falls between them, heavy with unspoken possibilities.

 

Ana nods slowly, looking even more tired than before. "I'll get a secure room prepared."

 

Looks are exchanged and Ana leaves with a last glance toward Jack. Angela gets to work, and Reinhardt doesn't know when exactly Jesse sat in the seat on the other side of the bed, but when Angie finally leaves after taking blood from Jack, the young man is there. His gaze is somewhere between haunted and full of determination, only darting away from Jack's form to lock with Reinhardt's for a second. The old crusader nods slowly and Jesse swallows, breath stuttering before he nods back.

 

All that's left now, is to wait.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reinhardt and Balderich:
> 
> They were never a thing. Never meant to be a thing. Between Reinhardt being only attracted to alphas and Balderich having no interest in sex, mating or most things outside of his duty and his pack, it just wasn't meant to be. But they made it look like it did. Reinhardt to avoid comments on his sexuality. Balderich to avoid being hit on or even courted. To anyone outside their pack, they were ... something. But truthfully, they were just friends. Brothers in arms. 
> 
> They were family.
> 
>  
> 
> Fareeha and Hana:
> 
> Ana never understood what her daughter saw in the young omega. But Fareeha always saw beyond gender, beyond type. What she saw was a warrior. A fighter. Someone strong and willing to fight for what she believed in. She saw someone she wanted by her side. Feelings just ... happened somewhere along the way. 
> 
> Ana's view on omegas never stopped Fareeha from courting Hana (who is absolutely delighted to be the recipient of one buff and sexy lady's attentions).


	2. The quiet before the storm

 

Angela waits for a beat, as if bracing herself or gathering her strength before she starts.

"I compared his dental records to his current dental prints. It really is Jack." The silence that follows is deafening.

 

"The- The augmentations run deep," she continues hurriedly, tapping her holoscreen to project a 3D render of Jack's body, "deeper than they appeared at first look." Parts of the hologram change color, turning the originally entirely blue projection into an heavily orange stained one.

 

"His arms, part of his clavicles and most, if not the entirety of his spine have been replaced with very advanced and custom-made prosthetics. The alloy is ... I don't know what it is yet, but I've never seen anything like it." She pauses, biting her lip. It _is_ ridiculously advanced technology, both sturdy and flexible, allowing the passage of nanites through and along conduits, _veins_ if she can call them that, that are interfaced with Jack's nerves in a way that is so subtle and delicate that it could and _should_ have been considered art. The only person Angela knows that could have ever dreamed of developing such a thing is- Moira. But that was then. And it's a lead she wants to follow on her own. Moira never was easy to deal with, even during their short fling, and if she was involved-

 

"Angela." Reinhardt's voice pulls her out of her thoughts. She nods curtly before continuing.

 

* * *

 

Jesse tries to focus on cleaning his gun but his eyes keep coming back to Jack, his thoughts circling over Angela's words, over and over.

 

 

_"I suspect that some of his ribs and possibly one of his lungs have been replaced with synthetic equivalents, but it's hard to prove without opening him up. And_ _… there’s the matter of his legs."_

_The hologram zoomed in, showing deep lines of orange running either next to, or in lieu of the bones, all the way up to Jack's hips._

_"His bones have been reinforced, here, here and here. The prosthetics he is wearing at the moment only go up to mid-thigh. They appear to be temporary. Removable. I think_ _… they were preparing his body for more definitive ones."_

_"Like his arms?" Fareeha chimed in._

_"Yes, like his arms," Angela answered with a nod._

 

 

Jesse can see the orange material where there should be flesh. The screws and the wires and the bolts. The slowly blinking lights. The cables. Metal shaped into limbs and muscle and- He rubs his own prosthetic arm distractedly. He knows he shouldn't feel so weird about Jack. About the changes the man he considers a second father had gone through, during the years he’d spent in the hands of Talon but- It's so _weird_ , so _surreal_ to see him like this, almost more metal than flesh. To see his face, so different and yet so close to what it used to be like.

 

 

_"His face has been partially reconstructed, and his eyes have both been replaced by bionic prosthetics. From what I've managed to see from the scans, his new spine hosts a nanite swarm, and conduits let the nanobots run into each and every part of his body. I have yet to get a good look at the nanites themselves, as their location makes it dangerous to get a sample."_

_"I- I am still running tests over his blood," she'd added, "but_ _…the preliminary results show that … he is an alpha. By birth or through transition, I can't tell. And there’s something else … he's … mated. It's not a bond-link, but … the mark has been renewed enough times, and recently enough for his blood to hold traces of mating hormones, both old and new."_

 

 

Jesse rubs his temples, remembering the argument that had risen at her words.

_Who the fuck thought they could mate his father and not suffer the consequences?_

 

And everyone had always thought, always assumed that Jack was an omega. The omega to Gabriel's alpha. Maybe he had been, and Talon had transitioned him, turned him into an alpha, for _some_ reason. To make him more aggressive? Easier to brainwash? So that they could keep him on a short leash, mated and drugged? Or maybe they'd been wrong all along, and Jack had always been an alpha? But what about Gabriel then? Had his dad been an omega? Or another alpha?

 

_Does it really matter?_

 

Jesse curses as he drops the part he'd been trying to slide back in its rightful place. He lets out a shaky breath, trying to steady his hand.

 

They're not even sure Jack has been brainwashed. Yet. Shit. He's been jumping to conclusions. Fuck. He needs- He needs to look his pops in the eye. To know if the man who offered to adopt the stray kid Gabriel Reyes brought back from a mission one day is gone. To know whether the man who wanted to _officially_ be his father is gone.

 

He needs to talk to Angela. To Captain Amari.

He needs answers. _They_ need answers.

 

They need to wake Jack up.

And the sooner, the better.

 

* * *

 

The pain is gone.

 

It's the first thing Jack notices as he wakes up.

 

The second is that the room echoes differently around him. A slow inhale confirms it.

 

He's no longer in Kansas, Toto. Or well, in his case, the base. His quarters. _Their_ quarters.

 

... where is he?

 

Letting his systems boot so they can feed him information on things such as his current location, his current state of well-being, the presence -or lack- of other lifeforms nearby, is a matter of will and patience. He needs to remain calm and relaxed until he knows what his situation is exactly.

 

Information flashes at the corner of his mind, his systems translating raw data into electrical current his brain can comprehend. He's ... in Spain. Gibraltar, to be more precise. The Watchpoint.

 

…why in the fuck is he here?

 

While his systems run check-ups on his body, Jack sifts through his memories. Anything from the past forty-eight hours is a blur of pain, temporary relief and the lingering haze of painkillers. He remembers fragmented, broken up dreams and nightmares. Long discarded fantasies of being reunited with his family. With his previous pack.

 

The usual.

 

His systems go quiet once more, after flashing information that reveals he’d been drugged with something far more potent than his painkillers. More efficient too. His pain spike is much lower than it normally would be during an episode. That’s … unexpected. Interesting. His nanites are already working on breaking down the compound, and once the process is completed, the substance shouldn't affect him anymore. Unless the dose he receives is too potent for his nanites to break down before it can affect him. Or if he wants to be affected by it, of course.

 

Good-

 

Movement close-by. His sensors flare into life, flashing warnings and information as he forces himself to remain still and relaxed. Someone with something in hand, close, closer, _too close_ -

 

Jack's eyes fly open.

 

A syringe, blond hair, startled blue eyes locking with his and _he shoves the hand holding the syringe away as his leg comes up and kicks her straight in the chest and away from him in the same movement._

 

His brain finally catches on.

 

_Angela._

Shit.

Is she- Had he-

 

Proximity alarms flare at the corner of his eyes and he barely has time to brace himself before strong arms push him back and hold him down into the bed. He thrashes, growls, snarls, instincts going into overdrive at the clearly dominating position. Shouts of alarm register distantly, sensors registering the presence of more lifeforms. But Jack is busy pushing whoever is trying to hold him down away, teeth bared into a snarl.

 

Large, _heavy_ body, muscles wherever he looks, bulging with the effort of trying to keep him down, the thundering rumble of a voice and a scent- _Reinhardt_ eases off of him suddenly and Jack falls forward, catching himself on the bedsheets.

 

Something hits him in the chest. The impact is almost imperceptible, barely worth noticing if not for the alert that pops up at the edge of his vision. He's just received a dose of the same compound he was drugged with earlier. A quick glance down reveals something that looks suspiciously like a dart and he snaps up to find the shooter.

 

But that's-

It's not-

It can't _be_.

 

"Ana .... ?" Her hair is white, she’s missing an eye and looks so much older than he remembers her to be. More tired, thinner, worn out. But he recognizes the determination on her face, her posture, the way she focuses solely on him for the time of the breath it takes her to aim and squeeze the trigger. He’d recognize it anywhere.

 

Ana's alive.

 

Talk about unexpected surprises.

 

* * *

 

Sitting by his pops' bedside, waiting for him to wake up, twice in a row, is not something Jesse expected he'd have to do when he got up this morning. Then again, he still thought Jack dead and buried not twelve hours ago. But he's not keeping an eye on him this time.... Okay he _is_ , but he's mostly there to prevent _someone_ from darting Jack into unconsciousness again, rather than be ready to shoot his father at the first sign of hostility.

 

He _wants_ a chance to talk his father before Captain Amari starts _interrogating_ him.

 

He can still see the confused, hopeful and _betrayed_ expression on Jack's face when he'd recognized Ana. Then, she'd shot two more darts in chest and put him right back to sleep.

 

 

_"You didn't have to dart him, he was fine," he tried to say calmly._

_"He kicked Angela hard enough to send her flying. How is that fine?!"_

_"She must- she must have taken him by surprise."_

_"Jess-"_

_"He was okay! Before Reinhardt pinned him down, he didn't-_ _” Jesse paused, taking a deep breath to calm himself. “He could have easily broken her neck." The implied 'but he didn't' hung in the air._

_He could see the way Captain- Ana fought to not snap at him. When she finally answered, her voice was just ... tired. "Am_ _élie was okay too, Jesse. And then, she murdered her husband before disappearing and returning to Talon."_

 

 

It's not that he doesn't see Captain Am- Ana's point but at the same time, he remembers clear as day Soldier, _Jack_ , breaking his leg like it'd been a twig, putting him out of the fight as easily as if he'd been swatting a fly. Jesse doesn't blame his father for breaking his leg. If he's been brainwashed, he can't really be held accountable for what happened.

 

But Jack had had a perfect opportunity to kill the doc. He had the strength and and the skills to do so.

And he had not.

 

It doesn’t prove anything but-

 

Meeting the alien yellow of Jack's eyes when he looks up is unexpected and Jesse almost jerks in surprise. Eyelashes flutters as his pops blinks slowly, brows creasing like...

Like he just woke up and is still dazed from sleep.

 

"Jesse..?"

 

Jesse breathes, steeling himself. Until he's got proof, one way or the other, he has to consider that the man blinking sleep away from his eyes both is and isn't his dad ... He can do that. He wets his lips and tries to sound as laid-back and relaxed as he can. "Hey, pops."

 

He has no reason to believe Jack is going to attack him, but if Talon transitioned him... Being aggressive or exhibiting dominant behavior would rub at alpha instincts, and Jack never had to learn to control those. Jack observes him for a moment, probably taking in the changes since they last had a chance to talk. As much as Jack has changed, Jesse has too. Then his father tilts his head and asks, "How's the leg?"

 

Jack _knows_. He _remembers_ breaking it, regardless of whether he was in control of his actions at the time or not.

 

"It healed okay," Jesse offers, rubbing his thigh where it had been broken. "Kinda hurts when it rains." Jack nods quietly, moves a hand to pass it on his scalp, a gesture Jesse has seen him do about a thousand times. But his father never finishes the movement, the cuff on his wrist making him pause when his eyes find it. He looks to his other wrist, finds the matching metal ring.

 

It doesn't look like much, a simple circle of metal about the width of Jesse's wrist.

 

But the Lindholm, Törbjörn and one of his daughters ... Brigid? Brigette? whatever her name was, had been hard at work to deliver handcuffs that could disable prosthetics at the snap of a finger. Or in this case, at the snap of an impulse sent by Athena.

 

"Cuffs?"

 

Jesse nods slowly. "Yeah."

 

Jack gives them another look, turning his wrist on itself before letting fall back on the bed. "Wise." He comments, something appraising and that sounds a lot like approval in his voice. Jesse blinks, uncertain of what's supposed to mean but-

 

"So what's the plan?"

 

Okay, then.

 

"Ana wants to talk to you. But I wanted to spend some time with my pops before she got her claws into you."

 

Jack snorts quietly. Jesse grins before continuing with a shrug. "Beyond that, depends on what you want to do. I … didn’t plan for anything specific."

 

Eyebrows raise in surprise. "You're not keeping me locked up in here."

 

"You got the cuffs on, and if we leave the room, we'll have a ah- babysitter."

 

His pops laughs. If it wasn't for both their missing limbs and the unnatural gaze meeting his own, Jesse could almost think nothing had happen. That everything was fine and Gabriel would come in within the next few minutes. Almost.

 

The laughter calms down, but the smile clings to Jack's lips as he pulls on his too-tight tee and takes a sniff, nose wrinkling with distaste at his own scent, making him look apologetic. "I could use a shower. I kinda-"

 

"Reek?"

 

"Yeah."

 

They share a smile. Then Jack starts moving, carefully slipping out of bed, as if he's expecting his legs to crumble under his weight. However, his movements do get more assured once he's back on his feet. Is he uncomfortable with his leg prosthetics? Looks like it. Small details, but Jesse was trained to keep an eye out to everything.

 

Genji's waiting outside.

 

Jesse was expecting to see Reinhardt, but after the way he'd pinned Jack down... This is a better choice. Genji's an alpha too, and, like Reinhardt, could trigger Jack’s instincts. But more importantly, he's enhanced. He could take Jack down for the beat it would take for Athena to activate the cuffs.

 

“Commander.” Genji greets politely.

 

“Genji,” Jack replies, just as polite, “You look well.”

 

“Thank you, Commander.”

 

And then they just … stand there, watching each other. Fuck, Jesse can almost see two dogs appraising each other, sniffing the air to determine if dominance needs to be asserted. They don’t actually move much, just light shifts, slow rolling of shoulders and eyes taking in the changes in the other. Weighing, calculating. It’s enough for him to feel like he _needs_ to come in-between.

 

“I thought you were still in Japan?” Jesse asks, smiling with bravado he doesn’t quite feel.

 

Genji tilts his head away, turning toward Jesse and just like that, the vague tension rising between the two cyborgs dissipates. Jesse starts moving and they follow his lead. Funny how it’s the beta out of the three of them that’s leading the way, heh. There’s thoughtfulness in Genji’s voice when he answers.

 

“I returned but a few hours ago.” Genji pauses. He seems almost … distracted. “I brought a dear friend of mine and my brother back with me. They both wished to join Overwatch, to some extent.”

 

Jesse opens his mouth, but Jack beats him to it, his voice full of the surprise they both feel but void of the distant pang of hurt and jealousy Genji’s words summon in Jesse’s chest.

“Your brother? Last I heard about it, you were dead set on getting revenge and killing him. What changed?”

 

“We fought. I won. Easily. I could have killed him but… I had come to terms with what had been done to me, with my anger; it was not to end him in a moment of blood-lust.”

Jack hums and Genji continues, speaking of how he’d been searching for answers and the ones he’d found had pointed in directions-

 

Jesse drones the conversation out, keeping an eye on the corridors as they make their way to the showers. He could believe they’re on vacation, taking a break from the insane rhythm Overwatch operates under- _used to operate under-_ if not for slight details here and there. And well, for how different both his father and his, sometimes on sometimes off, lover, are now.

 

Genji’s all sleek metal and green soothing lights now, instead of harsh reds and scarred flesh, displayed proudly as both proof and reminder that he’d survived, and was out to get revenge on the person who’d stolen his life away. He sounds calmer, he smells… his scent is quiet, barely noticeable to Jesse’s nose, where it had been a turmoil of emotions that anyone could easily pick up on, even betas. Genji used to be all fight, a tight ball of aggressiveness but now… he emanates peace and quiet. It’s a bit unsettling, to be quite honest.

 

And his dad- It’s in small details, like the way Jack looks around then sighs, before _undressing_ like they’re not even there. Or how he turns the water all the way down to freezing, when it’s, or well _used to be_ , common knowledge that the Strike-Commander likes his showers blazing hot. It’s in the way he steps out of the shower, frowns and searches for the stinky clothes he was wearing before. The ones Jesse threw into the washer. Of course he did. They stank, even to his nose, he wasn’t going to keep them around. But Jack’s scent flares with sudden agitation and aggressivity, hovering like a Damocles sword. Then it fades just as suddenly and Jack puts the generic fatigues Jesse grabbed for him while he was showering on.

 

Small details. But enough to point at his father being different than how he was before. Before Talon got their hands on him. Before they did- whatever the fuck they’d done to him.

 

But at the same time, Jack is-

 

When Jesse asks about the cold shower, his father grimaces and explains, showing vents along his arms, that his body easily overheats and that under not entirely liquid environment, his systems don’t know whether they should vent the heat out or not, which once lead to him almost drowning stupidly before he figured that out. He uses that tone Jesse’s heard a thousand times before, when Jack would explains the inner working of a specific gun, the intricacy of a system or a branch of Overwatch, or the complexity of some weather phenomenon.

 

Jack goes quiet and thoughtful when Genji mentions the mark in passing, as the cyborg leads them to one of the common rooms. His dad goes quiet the way he always had when anyone mentioned his relationship with Reyes, then it passes and Jack keeps up with the rest of the conversation. Jack doesn’t talk about the mark, or whoever the fuck marked him. Gabriel used to talk for hours, to get into details that Jesse neither needed nor wanted to know about concerning his and Jack’s sex life and relationship, but Jack-

 

Jack had always been more quiet, more private about their marriage, about his emotions in general. His smiles were agreements, the tilts of his head, quiet laughter, the soft kisses that made Gabriel pause for a moment, tender I love yous. Jack had never been hard to read, and he still isn’t.

 

But he is a beat too far from who he used to be for Jesse to believe that nothing’s changed, and that they can just return to what was, in a snap of fingers. At the same time, he is also so much the same, that it’s hard to believe that the man Jesse chose to call his father is gone.

 

His heart hovers as the three of them talk, going from one subject to another, the conversation dancing and bouncing around them.

 

Jesse knows their time will come to an end eventually, that this is temporary. That Ana and Winston need to interrogate Jack. That Jack is as much his father as he is the terrifying Talon operative that ripped one of D.va’s mech turrets off its hinges with his bare hands.

 

But Jesse doesn’t want to have to face that fact.

 

He doesn’t want to know whether Jack is in still there, or if Jesse’s been talking to a stranger wearing his father’s skin.

Not that what he wants has any say in what will come to be.

 

But he- He wants-

 

He just … wants his father back.

 

 

In the end, Jesse doesn’t notice what’s happening until Jack puts a hand on his shoulder, snapping him out of the silent refusal he slipped into.

 

“Jesse, I have to go.”

 

Jesse looks and Reinhardt’s there by the door, waiting patiently. So quiet Jesse had not even noticed his arrival. Though that might have been-

 

Fingers dig a bit harder into his shoulder, cool and hard, and yet Jack’s touch feels gentle.

 

“Are you gonna be okay?”

 

His father’s about to be interrogated and locked up, and yet, he’s the one asking Jesse if he’s going to be fine.

 

“Dad,” Jesse manages before his throat closes up with emotion. He’s certain his pops can pick up on his emotions through his scent. Shit, he’s probably scenting the whole room up. He opens his mouth to try to reassure Jack, his dad doesn’t need the added stress. But before he knows it, Jesse’s got his head tucked under Jack’s, his pops scent surrounding him. Safety. Calm. Warmth. He can’t pick up on the subtleties, not the way an alpha or omega might, but with his head sandwiched between two scent glands… It’s hard to not get the message.

 

Jack’s chest rumble. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

 

It’s pretty much impossible to worry when all he’s breathing is warmth and safety.

 

Jesse knows the chances of everything being okay are close to nonexistent but he wants to trust Jack’s words.

 

He wants to believe, just for a moment.

 

And there’s no-one still alive on this goddamn earth that he trusts more than this man.

 


	3. Rage on

 

The tone rings.

 

And rings.

 

And rings.

 

Then-

 

“Leave a message after the beep.” Bee-

 

Angela hangs up. That’s three times in a row that she got to the answer machine and the beep is starting to grate on her nerves. At least the number hasn’t been disconnected. Which, considering how Moira had seemingly vanished off the surface of the earth, is a surprise in itself. Then again, after Venice…

 

Angela sighs. Maybe Moira’s only refusing to answer _her_ calls. It’s not like Angela had made their break-up easy. She can’t really blame Moira for refusing to talk to her. But … she needs answers.

 

She needs to know if Moira really was involved in what Talon did to Jack.

 

She needs to know how much Moira knows, how much she did, whether she’d be willing to help, how far she- her breath hitches.

 

She needs a break, another dose of painkillers and to check on her ongoing tests, that’s what she needs.

 

She gets up carefully, a hand to her cracked ribs to try and prevent moving them too much, and rolls her shirt up slowly to check her bruises. Her chest is still a mottled mess of dark purples and blues so dark they almost appear to be black.

 

God, it hurts.

 

Jamming a needle in her side is a temporary pain that she knows will bring relief within a few minutes. Moving hurts. Breathing hurts. Every minute shift or twitch pulls on her torso and _hurts._

 

But she’s alive.

 

Jack could have killed her. Easily. He’d been through SEP, whatever _that_ involved _exactly_ , which meant he’d been biologically, and possibly genetically, enhanced, and had more recently been enhanced in less … subtle ways. His legs, the prosthetics he currently had on, weren’t the ones Angela remembered seeing whenever they’d brushed against Soldier. These ones are light, basic, easy to take out, white and orange colored replacements so much unlike the sleek black boots that had left dents in Reinhardt’s armor and Hana’s mech a couple times.

 

Maybe that’s why she’s still alive. Maybe Jack did try to put his foot through her chest and just couldn’t. But … she has a feeling that if he’d really wanted her dead, she would be. Jack had never been as aggressive or as confrontational as Gabriel, but he had a presence, something that commanded attention and respect, something hard and ready to strike if necessary. A blade hidden under layers of velvet and warmth. But it had never been aggressive. Always… protective.

 

She might be wrong, but she’s having trouble believing Jack really wanted her dead, regardless of what Ana said on the matter.

 

Relief spreads through her, pain fading away at last. Maybe she’ll be able to focus enough to check on the tests that haven’t borne results yet. It doesn’t take long to reach the bottom of the list, mostly because only two of them have reached the end of their processing cycle. Angela sits back in her chair as she goes over the results. It’s … hard to tell if those are good news or not.

 

Jack’s blood work isn’t- There’s no trace of synthetic hormones, no trace of a past hormonal imbalance, no _proof_ that Jack has ever been anything but an alpha. It doesn’t mean that he _hasn_ _’t_ been transitioned. Just that she can’t prove it. Angela searches for memories, signs of Jack being anything but an omega, but all she can remembers is the gentle, slightly subdued amateur chef, the warm and open Commander, the caring and protective friend.

 

The welcoming scent, alpha and omega, omega and alpha, that was all Gabriel and Jack.

 

Shit.

 

She passes a hand down her face, rubs away the humidity trying to gather at the corner of her eyes. It’s gone. Overwatch. The pack she’d tentatively tried to be a part of. The friendship and acceptance everyone seemed to share. It’s all gone. There’s no point on dwelling on it. It won’t help Jack.

 

Resolutely, Angela sets her pad down and calls Moira’s number again, leaning back in her chair as she settles in for the long wait. It might be futile. Maybe Moira won’t answer. And even if she does, she might not know anything. She might have had nothing to do with Jack’s … condition. But Angela needs to try.

 

The tone stops ringing. There’s no greeting. No voice. No breath. But the tone is no longer ringing. Is that how Moira answers cal- Oh right, she’s probably in hiding.

 

“Moira.”

 

The silence stretches for a long beat, then, that voice Angela both loves and hates comes over the line.

 

“How unexpected.”

 

“ _Moira_.” Angela warns, because she _knows_ Moira, more than she sometimes wishes she did, less than she used to think she did.

 

“Why hello, dove.” God, Angela can almost hear the grin in her voice. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

 

* * *

 

**Nine hours earlier, somewhere in the Tibetan mountains.**

 

 

“Are you positive this is the place, Sombra?” Reaper asks as the lenses in his mask give him a perfect view of the seemingly unoccupied base on the other side of the valley. Built on the mountain’s flank, the construction, high walls and protective steel, is Crisis old. A bastion built for the sole purpose of being able to retreat and keep on fighting the New Delhi and Chengdu Omniums. The menace the God AIs had been back then, while still active and in control of the rapidly growing Omnic population.

 

The not-quite castle, not-quite bunker looks old and unoccupied. But some things don’t add up. The hinges of every doors have been kept clean and functional. There’s tire tracks on the ground, showing passage through the massive doors of the outer wall. Sensors and state of the art shields on that same wall, hidden in crevices and holes. It’s a lot of work to make it look like it’s an abandoned and derelict building.

 

Not enough to stop him from going to knock on that door. To stop him from putting a bullet between the eyes of whoever’s going to come looking. But. Not yet. He needs-

 

Light in his eyes, bright and purple and the lenses reset under the onslaught. Reaper growls.

 

“What.”

 

“It’s the right place. Look.”

 

She opened a holographic map of the base while he was looking it over, and is pointing at numbers and moving lines of a different color. Of different colors, plural.

 

“I tracked the signal down to here. Place looks abandoned but they’re using enough energy to power a server farm,” she explains in a huff when it becomes clear he has no real idea of what she’s pointing at. “It might be here. The list.”

 

_Might._

 

“Place has got enough defenses for that.” Amélie chimes in quietly.

 

Reaper sighs and wishes for a moment that Jack was here, and not curled back home in a bed. In pain. Going through a cleaning cycle. Having the regrowing endings of his nerves be eaten away by nanites so that his nervous system could interface with his artificial limbs. But that’s also the very reason Gabriel’s not home or with his mate. He would have stayed and taken care of him. But since that one time he’d been so stressed, he’d lost his form entirely and it had taken hours for his husband to manage to bring him back, Jack was adamant that Gabriel go do something else, somewhere else. Channel his worry, his stress, his anger into something constructive. And Jack hated being seen so weak anyway. ‘ _I don_ _’t remember anything when I’m like that, babe,’_ Jack would argue every time they had that conversation again, gently kissing Gabriel’s fingers, his smile somewhere between apologetic and reassuring, ‘ _it won_ _’t make a difference to me whether you’re here or not.’_ And so Gabriel had left, heart in his throat, once the first signs of Jack’s cleaning cycle had appeared, with a promise of being back by the time his love would wake up.

 

The first time he’d left Jack alone with his pain had been hard, but they’d gone through the motions enough times in the past three years for Gabriel to know Jack would be fine. To know he wouldn’t always make it back to his husband in time. But that it was okay. That his love would wait for his return. That Jack loved him anyway.

 

“Okay. Amélie, you cover the front doors. Astra is your back-up. Kalpa, Ched, you cover the exit tunnels. Squad G covers that end too. Jonesy, you lead the assault once we’re inside. Sombra, I want your team to keep the base’s comms offline, to open doors, disable security and make sure this place doesn’t turn into a giant trap for us.” He lets a beat pass, waiting-

 

“I can do that on my own.”

 

Alpha pride. So predictable.

 

“I don’t doubt it, but I need _you_ to focus on my movements, keep everything clear for me. I also need you to make sure they don’t get a chance of destroying what we came for before we can get our hands on it.” She nods and turns to talk to her team.

 

“What about you, sir?” Jonesy. Ex-Blackwatch, part of that pack, his pack. She’s as close to a second in command as he can get without Jack being here. Loyal, clever, efficient. And she doesn’t care one bit about his secondary type. He grins behind the mask.

 

“Me? I’m going to go knock on the door.”

 

* * *

 

“The servers are secure. Most of the base is. There’s just-” A pause and Reaper grunts as he finishes dispatching the waste of air clinging to his boot. He reloads, bullets made of nanites returning as he waits for Sombra to tell him where to head next, to inform him of whether he’s still needed anywhere. “Sombra.”

 

“The armory. Some of them holed up in there. We could dislodge them but-”

 

“-not as easily as I would. Not without casualties on our end. I’m on my way.” She hums in assent and sends him the layout of the armory as he lets his body lose cohesion and billows through the corridors in a dark sand storm of nanites. The defenders locked the only door, broke the pad and blocked it with a shelf of some sort. They closed the main vent, screwed it shut tight and trapped the opening with … mines, apparently. They also destroyed the cameras. But not the sensors. Sloppy.

 

“What about the secondary ventilation system? We’re underground. If they don’t get air, they’re going to die and we won’t have to do a thing. But if it’s still open, I can use it.” Reaper asks, reforming for a moment to check his location before taking left and down the stairs toward the armory.

 

“On it.”

 

It’s not exactly smoking, but trying to find a word more fitting for the way his nanites jump and crawl and fly around each other, across every surface, through the smallest cracks, would be complicated, if not impossible. Maybe in another language, one he doesn’t speak. As is, smoking sounds fine, even though his swarm’s primary state is closer to fine sand than smoke. It used to be terrifying, being stretched like this. Being both more and less than what he used to be, the feeling so foreign and strange, it made him want to scream. But now… Now he feels great. It’s like swimming through air. Like dancing around dust. There aren’t any words fit to describe how pure and liberating it feels to seep through earth and air and water and move without moving.

 

Ah, there’s the armory.

 

Reaper takes his form again, shotguns a comforting weight against the back of his thighs.

 

“Sombra.”

 

“You were right. They haven’t locked the secondary venting system.”

 

“Of course they haven’t,” he purrs, “They’re human, they need to _breathe_.”

 

Sombra pulls the map up for him to see where he can enter the vents and he goes, smoke and sand, rolling through the air ducts until he finds the opening that leads _inside_ the armory. Reaper trickles down, along the wall, to the ground, pulling his body inside slowly. Like this, his sight is … weird. He doesn’t see much and yet he sees too much. It’s input his brain doesn’t know how to handle, data that the swarm tries to translate but he can’t make sense of.

 

So he _thinks_ there’s four of them. Two by the door and security window, on the other side of the room, and the other two working on something on the ground. A bomb maybe? Or some sort of communication device? Emptying or filing a crate up? It’s impossible to tell. Reaper doesn’t even try.

 

He lets the swarm finish pulling him inside the room and lets his mind drift off as he waits.

 

* * *

 

 _The plant is set on the table next to him and Gabriel recoils away from it._ _“Jack? What-”_

“ _Touch it.”_

“ _What? No. I’m going to kill it.” But Jack is making that face, that stubborn I’m-not-gonna-budge-or-give-up face Gabriel loves as much as he hates it._

“ _Gabe-”_

“ _No.”_

“ _Just one leaf.”_

“ _Jack-”_

“ _Babe,” Jack pulls him in his lap, kissing his cheek softly, “You’re not hurting me. You’ve never hurt m-”_

“ _Connors might lose his hand because he touched me. He just brushed his fingers against my arm, love and I-”_

 

_Jack sighs, presses his teeth to the side of his throat, jolting him out of the hysteria trying to bloom in his chest before it can. Then his love takes his hands and puts them to frame his face._

 

“ _You’re touching me, Gabe. You’re touching me and I’m fine.”_

“ _It’s different, Jack.”_

“ _What’s different?” Gabriel huffs but Jack- Jack’s seriously asking._

“ _You’re different. You’re my mate. My husband. My life. I’d sooner die than hurt you.”_

“ _Maybe that’s where the problem is,” Jack murmurs against his skin._

 _Gabriel frowns, glaring at the plant like it_ _’s at fault here. “What?"_

“ _Have you- Try considering the plant as if it’s as important as me.”_

“ _Jack, I can’t-”_

“ _Just give it a try.” Jack pauses and the silence stretches. Gabriel can’t- Nothing’s more important than Jack. Nothing’s as important as Jack. He almost lost him, his light, his sunshine, and the scars, the artificial limbs and those eyes he’s still getting used to remind him of that fact every day. Under him, Jack hums._

“ _Babe. It’s a gift. I’m offering it to you. You don’t want to disappoint me, do you?” Jack says, gently needling Gabriel’s nature, making him freeze because, no, he doesn’t want to disappoint his mate. He’s a good mate and he’s going to prove it. He growls. “God, I hate when you do that.”_

 _Jack laughs softly._ _“You know how much I hate doing it.”_

“ _Yeah. Still.”_

 

 _Jack chuckles again, the sound vibrating against Gabriel_ _’s skin, tilting his head just that much to show the mark Gabriel had to put back onto his love’s skin. He presses his thumb to the scar, rubbing into it slowly, a promise, a warning and an apology all rolled into one. Jack shivers and rumbles happily against him and Gabriel almost drop everything to just get on with it._

_But-_

_He doesn_ _’t want to disappoint his husband._

_He won_ _’t disappoint Jack._

 

* * *

 

Precious.

 

That plant had been precious. Still is. It’s still alive and has grown about twice its original size in the four years since Jack offered it to him, despite the numerous tries it had taken for Gabriel to understand how to make this work.

 

The people outside of this very room, his people, his pack, are precious. Each and every one of them.

 

The members of their previous pack, their son, their friends, are precious. Lost to them and out of reach, but precious.

 

These people in this room?

 

They’re not precious. They’re a bother, an annoyance, a problem he is the best equipped to deal with. He needs to protect his people. His team.

 

He needs to protect Jack.

 

These people are food.

 

The way the swarm changes is subtle. But Reaper _knows_.

 

And he strikes.

 

It can’t be said that he’s not merciful though, as he billows and fills the room to devour them. He might be eating them alive but he still forms a hand to snap a neck, reforms just enough fingers to hold a partially materialized gun, pull the trigger and splatter the contents of a head on a wall. He could be restraining them, just waiting until the swarm is done reducing them to components it can use, but he’s slipping a tendril into lungs to find a heart and explode it, snapping another neck with what feels like his leg but isn’t shaped like one at the moment. But he’s not rushing either. There’s no reason to. Gabriel’s thoughts drift back to Jack.

 

This, this whole mess of blood and guts and gunpowder, the shadows he, _they_ live in these days, is necessary.

 

That doesn’t mean Gabriel doesn’t wish he could be back home, letting the day trickle away with Jack in his arms. That he doesn’t want back all the things that were stolen from them. That he wouldn’t give anything to go back in time and talk to Jack about Moira’s confession sooner and maybe, maybe avoid fire and destruction. Death and pain. So much pain.

 

It might be necessary but it does not mean he doesn’t want to find his son and hug him for all the years they lost, for all the pain they went through. For all the things they couldn’t give Jesse because it wasn’t _safe._ For the way Jack came back to him shaking after breaking their son’s leg to protect him from danger. For all the hiding, all the lying and pretending to be people they’re not.

 

What it _does_ mean is that he’ll find Jack’s arms and let his love hold him for once. Maybe Jack will still be a bit sore from the cleaning cycle and Gabriel will massage whatever part of his love still hurts. Maybe Gabriel will draw them one of those scalding hot baths Jack loves so much, and relax in his love’s steamy embrace, even though it will mean breathing, being water for a time. Maybe he will cook one of Jack’s favorite meals, or maybe Jack will be waiting for his return with food and kisses and his open warmth.

 

It’s a content and distracting train of thought and it takes a few minutes for him to claw his way out of the warmth the idea of returning to his loving mate summons, of taking care and being taken care of.

 

He’s not done here. Yet.

 

The swarm devours and while it’s busy, Reaper takes a human shape again. At least enough to have shoulders and a neck and a face and eyes. He needs to see what those two idiots were working on. But there’s … nothing? He frowns. Replays the memory in his head. There was something. Something weirdly shaped, right there on the ground. He lets the nanites return to their primary state because it’s easier to just let the nanites fall and slip and search with sand shaped limbs. And there’s- How interesting. There’s open space under one of the slab. Void where there should be ground.

 

A cache. Or a secret exit.

 

Reaper hums a tune as he reforms and wedges the tip of his claws under the slab and gently pulls to open it. There.

 

Three bullets find their way to his chest and he tilts his head as his gaze meets terrified eyes. Not a cache then. But it doesn’t look like it goes very far either. Reaper crouches and gets shot a couple more times as he looks into the small space. No, not an exit. It’s no more than ten feet long. About three, maybe four feet wide. Just some sort of panic room, then. Small and hidden in the floor itself. Smart.

 

“Sombra.”

 

“Yes?” she sounds so bored. Then again, he’s supposedly taking the last bit resistance out. Everyone’s probably bored … to death, heh, waiting for him. He snorts.

 

“Check for hidden rooms. I just found one in the floor in here.” He cuts the communication without waiting for an answer.

 

This should be the last problem to get rid of. He just needs to get rid of this one last little annoyance and he’ll be able to relax and give in to the contentment of work well done and thoughts of his husband waiting for his return. Jonesy and Sombra can take care of the rest.

 

Reaper purrs.

 

And lunges.

 

* * *

 

**Now, Watchpoint Gibraltar**

 

Jack is waiting. He keeps shifting uncomfortably in his seat, over and over. He’s so bored, he keeps yawning. And the room is so goddamn warm, he half-expects his vents to open at any moment and release a steady stream of steam to cool his body off. They haven’t. Yet. But considering the warmth…

 

He has been waiting in the interrogation room for … a bit under three hours, according to his systems. He knows the procedure, but fuck if it’s not boring as hell. There’s _nothing_ to keep his mind busy besides going over his son’s state and the conversation he’d had with him and Genji. Conversations, in Genji’s case. Fuck, he’s so glad Sombra practiced Omnic language with him.

 

Jesse had looked tired and weary and hell, it had been hard to leave him in Genji’s hands, especially after the way his scent had wavered with- Pain. Fear. Refusal. Shit, it had hurt to leave. Jack knows Genji will take care of Jesse. He knows that his son is already thirty-seven, that he’s a full grown adult, but … Jesse will always remain the scrawny teenager Gabriel brought back one day, the skittish kid they had taken in as their own. Not that they could have children of their own, not with SEP having made each and every one of them to have survived it sterile. The things he had to bite back, because it wasn’t _safe_ to talk about it out loud. God, he hopes Genji will understand and keep quiet-

 

The door opens.

 

+++

 

Ana had been keeping an eye on Jack. Observing. Taking in his posture. The minute shifts. The barely visible crease of his brows.

 

There’s no hope of catching him unprepared, of pressuring him. Of making him uncomfortable just by keeping him locked up. He’s _yawning_ , for fuck’s sake.

 

Enough.

 

Time to get answers.

 

She steps inside, takes a seat.

 

Jack’s observing her, eyes half closed, expression blank. There’s tension in his shoulders. He’s wary. Ready for whatever she’s got in store for him.

 

Of course he is. Talon wouldn’t have let him out, wouldn’t have used him as a weapon if he wasn’t. An aggressive approach won’t work. She needs to call to whatever’s left of Jack inside of him, and not antagonize the brainwashed …assassin? agent? Soldier? in front of her.

 

“Hello, old friend.” She greets warmly, trying for an apologetic smile.

 

Jack smiles in return, the little curl of his lips a million miles away from the warm smile she remembers. “Ana. It’s good to see you’re alive.” He clicks his tongue, tone conversational as he adds, “But I don’t want to talk to you.”

 

“Jack-” She tries but- the cold glare she gets cuts her short. She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. Calm. She needs to remain calm. She can’t lose her temper. This isn’t Jack. She just needs to reach him. She breathes through her nose a few times then continues.

 

“This is for your own good, Jack.”

 

“For my own good.” He repeats flatly, expression unnervingly vacant as he just …stares.

 

“Yes, Jack. I just want to help you.” _I_ _’m not your enemy, you can trust me._ But saying the words wouldn’t work, she has to-

 

Something smells like it’s burning, the scent so strong it’s leaving a taste on her tongue. “To help?” It can’t be- “You want to _help_?”

 

God, it’s Jack’s scent. How badly must he be scenting the room, that the smell is both in her nose and on her tongue. It’s all she can smell. It makes her want to both go utterly still and run away. She feels like the mouse who came to the sudden realization that its neck had been in the cat’s mouth all along. It’s terrifying.

 

“Jack?” She tries to hide her fear, but her voice is but a whisper.

 

“Don’t you _dare_ say you want to help. You _abandoned_ us. You were one of us, part of _our_ pack, our _family,_ and you let us _think_ you were dead. We _mourned_ you.” The rhythm of Jack’s words carries threat and strength and resolve. It’s like watching a tsunami approaching, knowing it’s going to hit you and being helpless to do anything about it. Still, Ana tries.

 

“Jack, I-”

 

He slams a fist on the table between them, denting the metal. Ana’s words wither and turn to ashes on her tongue under the intensity of that unnatural gaze.

 

“Don’t you _fucking dare_ try to justify yourself.” Jack pauses, breathes, staring without blinking as he dares her to do just that. When Ana stays silent, gaze averted, he continues. “We were- Everything was falling apart around us, everyone was against us. Gérard had been _murdered._ The UN was strangling us more and more every day and Gabriel- Gabriel was sick and devastated and- Do you have _any idea_ how much your death crippled us? Crippled _him_? He needed you. _We_ needed you.” In the face of his accusations, of his anger, her excuses feel- “Gabriel died and _you weren_ _’t there_. You should have been with us. You should have been by our side, just as we would have been by yours. But you …ran away. You abandoned us. You _betrayed_ us. You made your choice.”

 

She opens her mouth, a thousand apologies struggling to find their way out of her throat. _I had failed you all, I couldn_ _’t stand to fail you any more than I already had, I couldn’t protect our pack, I couldn’t stay and face them all, knowing it was my fault. I’m sorry._ But Jack growls a warning, and the instinctual part of her brain reminds her that she isn’t in charge here. That she is prey to the man sitting in front of her.

 

“You don’t deserve to be a part of this pack.” He snarls, still daring her to say anything and his scent- His scent curls around her, souring by the second, gaining a tone that’s making her want to cry and throw up. “I reject you. _You._ Are no longer a part of this pack. You never will be again.” Jack leans back and his voice sounds like - “Get out of my sight.”

 

Like he’s dismissing her.

Like she’s no longer worth his time.

Like-

 

She staggers up, breath choked out by Jack’s scent.

 

Like she’s less than a stranger, and he wants nothing to do with her ever again.

Like she’s become transparent.

 

Like …she’s ceased to exist in his eyes.

 

He doesn’t so much as twitch as she opens the door and Reinhardt recoils from her, from the scent Jack layered on every inch of her skin. For all to know.

 

Banned. She’s been banned.

 

She runs.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angela and Moira: 
> 
> They used to date and stayed together for about a year and a half. Part of their break-up is due to Venice and the Gérard/Retribution fiasco. The rest was Angela being frustrated with Moira. It's not that Moira lies or hides who she is. She was always honest about herself with Angela. 
> 
> The fact was that Angela didn't fall for Moira. She fell for the person she thought Moira was, for the person she thought Moira could be. When she understood that Moira wasn't who she'd thought Moira was, and that Moira would never change, she broke up with her.
> 
>  
> 
> Moira: 
> 
> Moira O'Deorain was born an alpha. She had little to no interest in fulfilling her 'duty' as an alpha or passing on her genes. Instead she buried herself in her work. But alphas that step out of expectations get shunned, and that was the case for her. Her work mocked, her funding drying up. She needed alternate ways of continuing her experiments and ended up experimenting on herself. 
> 
> Through experimenting on herself, she transitioned and became a beta. Moira didn't notice until she realized her ruts were gone. She worked out the process that had changed her, reverse engineered it and could have reversed her transition. But ... she felt better being a beta. Her own type had always felt like a trap and to be freed from it was- She simply shared her findings and kept on with her experiments. Her own transition may have been an accident, but maybe someone out there would like to use her findings for themselves. 
> 
> Maybe she could change someone else's fate. 
> 
> Maybe she could help.


	4. The end (is a new beginning)

 

**Now, somewhere in the Tibetan Mountains**

 

Reaper hums contentedly.

 

They found two other panic rooms during their sweep of the base. Both empty.

 

Jonesy and Connors are supervising the loading of the weapons they found onto the dropships. Sombra’s team is transferring the data to a secure location in Dorado. Amélie, Ched and Kalpa are keeping an eye out for possible incoming threats while squad B and V are patrolling the perimeter. Not that they expect trouble, the location is remote enough that they shouldn’t have any issue of the like, but hey, better safe than sorry.

 

Reaper’s so proud of them all.

His pack.

_His_ people.

 

They’ve done well. He’s done well.

He can’t wait to get back to Jack and smother himself in his love’s scent and warmth.

He purrs, satisfied and content.

 

“Reaper.”

 

Sombra. “What is it?”

 

“Amigo, you reek.”

 

Reaper turns to look at her. She’s … a couple feet away, nose wrinkled like- He frowns.

 

“Seriously, can’t you tell? God, just smell yourself old man, you _reek_.”

 

He takes a sniff and _fuck_. “That’s not- It can’t _be_.”

 

Her eyes soften, because she knows. Knows that while Reaper is an omega, he doesn’t go into heat, that he hasn’t, not even once, ever since he became …this, whatever Moira calls it. It’s not something he puts much energy into hiding.

 

What he _does_ hide is the fact that he did go into heat after Zurich. Once. He’d gone into heat exactly once, his body searching for a mate, his bond with his love broken because Gabriel had died, because they’d both been dead for a moment.

 

And his husband had been right there, in a coma, kept alive by machines as scientists and doctors worked on saving him. It had been a horrible moment, to feel his body try to attract a mate when _his mate_ had been right there, lying unconscious.

 

Thankfully, he hadn’t been able to scent properly back then. Fuck he hadn’t even had limbs. Or a face. Shit, he remembers the wary cautiousness on John and Martha’s face, Jack’s parents face when he’d showed up on their doorstep to tell them Jack was alive. Then their worry when they’d realized who he was. Shit-

 

Shit, he’s going into heat.

 

He is.

 

His thoughts are running wild, his train of thought is too disjointed.

 

He feels so warm. Too warm.

 

Fuck.

 

But that means-

 

“I need to go back. I have to-”

 

Sombra nods. “Take one of the smaller ships, I’ll make sure you get there.”

 

He nods, makes a beeline for one of he ships.

 

Jack.

 

He needs to get to Jack.

 

They finally have a chance to renew their bond.

 

To renew it properly, and have it not be this pale copy of their first bond.

 

He’s not going to let this chance pass.

 

* * *

 

He hadn’t missed the cramps.

 

Fuck if there’s one thing he hasn’t missed about his heats, it’s the cramps. They slash through him, blooming and spreading and beating in rhythm with his fevered heartbeat. He longs for Jack’s hands gently rubbing the pain away. He longs for warm baths and the soothing tone of his mate’s rut scent.

 

Gabriel can tell the swarm is returning to its primary state to try to escape the pain. Not that it’ll work. But …nice try.

 

It’s making his senses muddled, his sense of time and space weird and surreal.

 

He doesn’t need to be aware or to pilot the ship. Sombra’s got his back. She’ll get him to Jack.

 

His mind drifts, summoning disjointed memories of his love, his life, his sunshine.

 

_Jack on top of him, offered, legs open as Gabriel fills him. His sunshine_ _’s knot hard and swollen in his hand. The light of the sunset making everything burn like molten bronzes and golds to his eyes. The wheat fields, the corn fields, surrounding them on all sides. Jack’s hair, gold and shining like a second sun, the blue of his eyes, the intensity of his gaze, the flush on his cheeks, his parted lips, his breathless laughter when Gabriel turns them over to press back deeper, and more-_

 

Time stretches.

 

_Jack_ _’s hands on his skin, the contact almost too much and yet soothing as his not-quite friend, his not-yet roommate tries to help with his heat cramps, part managing, part failing, hands not rubbing the way Gabriel needs it. The shy and worried look on the man’s face when Gabriel curls around him. The warm neutral scent of the neutralizing patches they all wear both helping and rubbing raw and wrong on his nostrils. Jack’s words._

‘ _Do you want me to go get someone else?’_

‘ _I can wait outside if you want, make sure no-one comes to bother you.’_

‘ _Gabriel, I’m not going to fuck you while you’re in the middle of a cycle. You still want me to spend your next heat with you once you’re back to normal, I’ll be happy to discuss it with you.’_

_Jack_ _’s gentleness, his care. How different and perfect he was._

 

Time contracts.

 

_Jack_ _’s curled up form, crying silent sobs._

_Jack_ _’s curled up form, exhausted after he’d almost died from his body catching up on the hormonal changes everyone other person at SEP had been going through, but all at once._

_Jack_ _’s curled up form, sound asleep in his arms, face and body loose. Trusting. Unaware of Gabe’s eyes committing this very moment, every line of his sunshine’s body, every imperfection, every scar to memory._

 

Time-

 

What is time.

 

Time doesn’t matter.

 

All that matters is Jack.

 

A distant part of Gabriel’s mind, the kernel of consciousness that remains, knows that this is biology. The heat speaking. His hormones having found the bond, his bond to Jack, the mark Gabriel left and renewed on his husband’s skin, as many times as it needed to be renewed, as many time as Jack wanted him to renew it. That Gabriel’s body, his hormones are pushing him toward his mate, instead of burning his insides with raw lust, instead of just wanting someone, anyone to come and feed the hunger, the need clamoring in his veins.

 

Never again.

 

He will never need someone else again.

 

Jack is his.

_His_ mate.

No-one else is.

 

Gabriel just needs to get to him. To get his teeth on his love’s throat. To taste copper on his tongue when he’ll bite and mark. To feel their bond snap back into place. To smell their joined scent, the glorious mix of alpha and omega, omega and alpha. To feel his mate’s presence along his spine, in the depths of his heart. To sense Jack’s emotions like his own and know how much Jack loves him.

 

For Jack to know, to feel once more how much Gabriel loves him.

 

He can’t wait.

 

* * *

 

Gabriel emerges, thoughts slow and still hazy.

 

He has limbs and a body again, so the swarm is no longer trying to squirm away from pain, that’s good. The cramps have passed, thank fuck for that. His senses are slowly coming back online, starting with touch and sight. Taste is still a work in progress. Hearing and smell are … still not functional.

 

How long as passed? Ugh. It’s hard to tell. The heat has dimmed to being a low simmering warmth running along his nerves, instead of a smoldering inferno, lava trickling down his veins.

 

It’s …waiting for his mate.

That’s both a relief and a surprise.

 

It’s also the first time Gabe’s heat started without him being able to return to Jack rapidly, the first time it’s taken him so long to notice the too-tight warmth of his skin, the fixated slant of his thoughts.

 

He stretches, grimacing at how sore his lower back feels.

 

Soon.

 

He’ll be there soon. Right?

 

Gabriel checks his comm and the screens, and … well, someone tried to call him. Multiple times. He’s … also no longer on the way back home.

 

_What._

 

Dread trickles down his spine.

 

What happened? What did he miss? _Shit._

 

His communicator rings and he opens the line before it can start beeping a second time.

 

“Finally!” Sombra’s voice.

 

“I’m no longer on course.” He growls, or at least tries, but the heat is making it come out closer to a whine. Fucking-

 

Gabriel can almost hear Sombra swallow, can picture the almost physical way she must be holding herself back. Hopefully he won’t have triggered her rut with his heat scent. Fuck, he hopes he hasn’t triggered her rut. Just because Amélie is there with her doesn’t mean unexpected ruts or heats are pleasant. And that’s not even getting into the fact that they’re probably still in enemy territory. Forcefully pacified enemy territory but still.

 

“Moira called. She-” Sombra pauses for a second and he can hear chatter. “She called, saying that Ziegler had called her. The good doctor got her hands on information about your mate.”

 

“Wha- _How?_ ”

 

“I looked into it already. Home base was attacked. We needed most our people for this operation, the remaining few were easily overpowered.”

 

Gabriel tries to growl but ends up hissing. Someone attacked his people while he wasn’t there.

 

“Who.”

 

“Overwatch.” He blinks slowly. “The … newly reformed Overwatch. They left our men behind. Moira is already there. But … they took your mate, old man.”

 

“…that’s why you changed my trajectory.”

 

“Yes. I tracked down his signal. Well, it was scrambled but …then you received something.”

 

She opens the file on his comm and there’s … coordinates and a picture. And he- He knows those coordinates. It’s one of the Watchpoints. Gibraltar.

 

The picture opens and-

It’s Jack and … Jesse. Gabriel’s heart jumps in his throat. His son, _their_ son looks- good isn’t right, not with those dark circles under his eyes, or how neglected his …whole attire appears to be. But Jesse seems to have been doing okay in the time since Gabriel last saw him. It’s been almost seven years, now. God. There’s- Is that metal on Jesse’s arm? He can’t see it clearly but Jesse has something on his arm. A protection? Armor? Probably.

 

Then Gabriel’s eyes find Jack and- he looks fine. He looks okay. He doesn’t look he’s been hurt by anyone. He’s smiling a bit.

 

Thank god.

 

But who-

 

“Do you know who sent that?”

 

“Genji Shimada. He had the code to reach your communicator _directly_ , meaning-”

 

“Jack gave it to him.”

 

Gabriel breathes. They took his love but Jack- Jack’s fine. He’s already worked some things out. Might have made an ally out of Genji. That’s … good. And yet-

 

“Sombra-”

 

“I know, I know. Hang in there a bit longer, okay? You’re almost there. I’m clearing the way for you.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

She hums distractedly and cuts the line.

 

So many things happened while he was out.

 

His husband, their son, their … whatever Genji is to Jesse these days. Overwatch. Kidnapping his love while he was unconscious. Because Gabriel has no doubt that Jack could and would have overpowered each and every single of them if his husband had been awake when Overwatch had started their assault. How stressed had Jack been when he’d woken up? Shit.

 

Gabriel needs-

 

He wants-

 

He has to get back to Jack.

 

His heart, his life, his sunshine has been taken hostage.

 

Taken from him.

 

And he’ll tear apart anything that tries to stand in the way of bringing his mate back to his rightful place at his side.

 

* * *

 

Jack shifts uncomfortably.

 

What happened earlier must have shaken everyone. No-one’s asking him anything.

 

Oh, he’s not uncomfortable because of Reinhardt’s presence. Or the crusader’s excited babble about his adventures. It’s more soothing than anything else.

 

Reinhardt had gently offered to switch rooms but hadn’t come inside, just waited for Jack to come out. Then again, Jack had scented the room pretty badly. The room and Ana. The scent wouldn’t cling to him. Not that type of scent. That wasn’t how it worked. And so he had agreed and gotten up. Stepped out of that room and followed his old friend down the corridor to one of the other interrogation rooms.

 

Jack sighs internally. It hadn’t been easy, doing what he’d done. But he doesn’t regret his decision. He can’t allow people who would betray him, who would betray _them_ to come close anymore. Betray. Abandon. Challenge. It’s all the same to some extent. The risks- They can’t- The risks are too high. There are too many lives at stake. Jack can’t risk it.

 

And if he’s to be completely honest, it had …lifted a weight off Jack’s chest, to do what he’d done. Ana deserved to suffer for the pain she had inflicted to Gabe with her ‘death’.

 

Jack himself hadn’t been all that close to her. They were friends, they worked well together, but their relation was professional, more based on work and making Overwatch run smoothly than anything else.

 

Maybe it had to do with Gabe’s possessiveness. Maybe it had to do with the fact that Ana, and a lot of other people, considered omegas as weaker and useless outside of their formidable fecundity. And that Jack had spent the last thirty something years fighting against that mentality, his own special position allowing him liberties while inspiring others to rise and fight.

 

Omegas weren’t inherently weak. Alphas weren’t inherently meant for greatness, or to rule over others. Betas weren’t inherently fillers, replacements, fading away once someone more fitted came by. All Jack had to do was look at their pack to see that. All he had to do was look at Gabe.

 

He’d let the world think for the past three decades that he was an omega. But it hadn’t been because it gave off an image of an omega being in a leading position. Of an omega being at the head of a powerful organization that operated worldwide. Not because it allowed him, as an alpha, to do things an actual omega would have been refused by the powers in charge of keeping Overwatch in check. Not because it would, and had, inspired others omegas, real ones, to fight for themselves, to lead and protect their own people.

 

No.

 

He had let the world think he was an omega, had let everyone, his friends, his subordinates, his coworkers think that because _it suited him_. Because it suited _them_. Because it had let Gabe be the alpha out of the two of them. And his mate thoroughly enjoyed that. Gabe _wanted_ to lead. He was so _good_ at it.

 

But thirty something years ago, letting an omega lead or gain access to any position of power would have been a blasphemy. And so the higher-ups had thrown the responsibility of the Strike-Team, and later of Overwatch on Jack’s shoulders. Jack who had no desire to lead, no desire nor need to prove himself. Jack who would have taken up his family’s farming business if not for the Crisis. He had-

 

“Jack?” Reinhardt. Right.

 

Jack smiles apologetically. “Sorry, I got lost in my thoughts for a moment.”

 

Reinhardt bellows a laugh, the sound echoing around them and Jack’s eyes crinkle in quiet happiness. He’d missed the man.

 

“I’m sorry.” Jack says quietly. Reinhardt raises both brows in a silent question and Jack sighs. “For retiring you. I-”

 

“It’s not your fault, my friend. Rules had to be followed and you did so.”

 

“I shouldn’t have retired you.” It had weakened them, weakened their small pack, the heart of Overwatch. It had left them unbalanced, prey to those waiting in the shadows. “I should have fought for you to stay. We were family, Reinhardt, and it broke my heart to do so. I _know_ I was doing what I thought necessary, what I thought was right and just, but … it hurt you. It hurt everyone. I’m sorry.”

 

He’s suddenly got his head in Reinhardt’s shoulder, giant arms hugging him and _fuck_. Jack bats a few tears clinging to his eyelashes away.

 

He whispers another ‘I’m sorry’ but Reinhardt doesn’t say a word, just tightens his hug, silently offering comfort. Forgiveness.

 

And maybe Ana isn’t the only one who betrayed their pack, who abandoned one of them behind. Maybe Jack is too protective of his husband. Of the freedom he fought so hard for, so that Gabe could be and do whatever he wanted, without being faced with the limitation society would have imposed on him for no other reason than his secondary type. Maybe Jack’s too attached to the very few people he ever let into his heart and considered his family. Maybe he lost too many things and wants too much of it back.

 

But he remembers the pain in Reinhardt’s eyes when the crusader had been forced to retire. He remembers Fareeha's cries and tears, remembers the pain Gabe had felt when he’d learned of Ana’s death. A pain on par with how devastated his love had been when they’d been informed that one of the side effects of SEP was sterility.

 

Jack remembers the pain. And maybe inflicting it back to those who hurt them, who hurt their family, who hurt their son, who hurt _Gabe_ , is petty.

 

But it’s liberating. It’s making him feel better, just a bit.

 

And if it means protecting Gabe, their son or their pack from more hurt?

 

Jack would burn the world away.

 

 

Reinhardt lets him go eventually and they exchange little smiles. Tired. Exhausted. On the edge of shy. His friend clears his throat.

 

“You must be thirsty, yes? I will go get some water.”

 

Jack’s smile lingers, a bit too soft, a bit too weak. He could use a minute to let his heart climb back down his throat and return to his chest. “Thanks.” He murmurs quietly.

 

Reinhardt pats his shoulder and then he’s gone.

 

Jack fidgets. Shifts, still uncomfortable. Why is he still feeling so uncomfortable? He looks at his hands. The black metal, shaped and jointed into fingers and knuckles and palms, that he’s come to call his hands. The orange of his arms, the metal showing through. He’s hurt so many people with those hands, his hands. He would burn the world to ashes to avenge or protect his loved ones, yes, but where’s the line? When do his actions stop bringing him, them closer to being reunited to their pack? Where’s the point where what he does will part them from their family forever? How can he know? Does he want to know? Does he still care?

 

The lights shut down all of a sudden. Jack stills. The emergency generators kick in.

 

Ghostly fingers dance up his spine and purple shimmers at the edge of his vision, his systems taking a beat to recognize the intrusion. Sombra. Knowledge he didn’t have three seconds ago is suddenly there, and she’s gone the way she appeared. Jack relaxes, leaning back in his seat.

 

Gabe is here, in the Watchpoint. His husband has come to pick him up. Get him back. Free him. Save him. Not that Jack ever doubted the fact that Gabe would come get him eventually.

 

But Gabe’s here.

 

He’s here. _Now._

 

A throaty, delighted chuckle makes its way out of his chest, but Jack’s brows furrow as this brain catches up with the rest of the data Sombra uploaded into his systems.

 

Gabe’s here.

Gabe is _in heat._

 

_He hasn_ _’t-_

_Since Zurich-_

_How-_

 

Reinhardt and Ana are both out there, covered in his scent.

 

_Fuck._

 

He scrambles to his feet, heads to the door, ready to punch it down.

 

But it’s …open. Not exactly open but-

Just pushed against the frame. Not closed. Unlocked. Reinhardt’s trust in him is-

 

Humbling.

 

Jack steps out.

 

* * *

 

Finding his way into the base isn’t hard. Gabriel follows the trail that emanates from the person prostrated by the cliff. He follows it to a door. An open door. And … that’s it. Following Jack’s scent through the base isn’t hard, despite the annoyance having to slip into the vents to avoid being detected every time he’s about to cross someone’s path lights under his skin. He needs to find Jack. He can’t let them lock his love somewhere Gabriel wouldn’t be able to get to. Which means he needs to remain undetected. Avoid tripping alarms. Just a bit longer. It’s almost a mantra, running through his head as he follows his husband’s scent.

 

_Just a bit longer, just a bit longer, he just needs to find Jack._

 

He turns around a corner and Jack’s scent is so much stronger all of a sudden.

 

But that’s …Reinhardt.

 

Covered in Jack’s scent.

 

Gabriel snarls, billows and lunges. No-one gets to be covered in Jack’s scent but him.

 

Movement at the corner of his eye. Jack.

 

_Jack._

 

_Jack, Jack, Jack Jack Jack-_

 

His smoke, his sand turns and curls and parts before it can touch Reinhardt and he’s reforming and colliding with Jack, crowding his sunshine against the wall before Gabriel’s even finished forming legs to support his own weight.

 

* * *

 

 

[Art by ZenyrAH](http://dumpsterlock.tumblr.com/)

 

* * *

 

 

He’s found him.

 

His hands pull Jack’s thighs up to set them on his hips and he grinds. _Yes. Fuck yes._

 

The blazing, clamoring heat in his veins makes thinking hard. Jack’s low moan is not helping either. Jack’s right here. He needs Jack. He has Jack. What is he waiting for exactly? Jack’s hand, up his neck, in his hair, gripping the longer hair on top of his head, pulling-

 

Gabriel moans, whines, tries to breathe but all he can smell is Jack’s scent, pines and burnt apples, slowly thickening, blooming to match his own as his mate starts to go into rut.

 

For him.

 

Jack is going into rut for him.

 

He always did.

 

“Our quarters.”

 

Jack never went into rut on his own, he always followed Gabe’s heat-

Shit. Words. He heard words. Focus.

 

“Our quarters, babe. Take us to our quarters.”

 

Jack’s voice is _wrecked. A sinful wrecked murmur._

 

His eyes- There’s no blue. God, Gabriel misses the blue of Jack’s eyes. The gold of his hair. His soft hands. Gabriel tries to breathe, tries to focus, and _maybe_ breathing isn’t such a good idea.

 

Their quarters. It’s not Zurich. It’s not home.

 

Zurich is gone.

 

Home is gone.

 

But it’s still their quarters. Their bed. Privacy. Jack laid out naked on their bed, offered, waiting-

 

He can’t keep Jack waiting any longer.

 

He carries Jack, legs long gone. He’s so much faster as smoke and sand. But he can’t carry Jack without arms. Thankfully, their quarters are only three corridors and a flight of stairs away. It doesn’t take _long._ Letting go long enough for Jack to open the door is torture. And Jack still fumbles with the pad once they’re in. Why?

 

But then! He lets go and Gabriel can finally push him onto the bed and-

 

Clothes, he forgot the clothes.

 

He returns to his primary state, specifically indicating to the swarm that he doesn’t want the suit, the coat, the gauntlets or anything else he’s wearing to be dissolved with him. And reforms a handful of seconds later to the sight of an uncovered chest. Gabriel groans. Helps Jack with his pants. Wraps a hand around his prize, thick and hard and hot, lips stretched in a mad grin.

 

That Jack decides he wants to kiss apparently, because there’s lips at the corner of his lips, teeth nipping and f _uuuuuck_ -

 

He almost misses the clever fingers finding their way up his thighs, but suddenly they’re there, pressing behind his balls, into his slit, parting flesh to check whether Gabriel is-

Wet. Slick. Open and ready for the knot he knows will come to fill and stretch him up.

 

He hisses, grinds, bats his love’s hands away. He needs-

 

Jack’s cock is right there, hard and-

 

And Gabriel slides down, feeling his inner muscles protest but he wants-

 

Jack’s hands come up again, one wrapping around _his_ cock to jerk him off while the other slows but doesn’t stop Gabriel’s descent. Gabriel’s brain is torn between jerking up into Jack’s grip and down onto Jack’s cock. Then Jack does _something that should be considered illegal_ with his wrist and he’s coming, fuck he’s coming but it’s not-

 

His fingers rake up Jack’s back because it’s not what he- He needs- Gabriel whines and there’s the scent of copper in the air- But Jack’s groaning, eyes rolling back, chest rumbling in something that sounds a lot like pleasure.

 

Jack pulls Gabriel’s hips down in a last move, pressing them flush against each other and Gabriel sobs, because it’s perfect, fuck it’s perfect and it’s not enough and all he needs is- Jack rolls his hips up and Gabriel’s train of thought derails into _yes, fuck yes, please_ as Jack rolls his hips up and into him and he can feel the knot at the base of Jack’s cock start to swell and stretch him.

 

There’s a glorious moment where Gabriel hangs between not enough and too much, then Jack moans and shudders and jerks inside of him, knot finishing to swell, and Gabriel tumbles and follows Jack into his orgasm, mind dazed, hazed by pleasure.

 

* * *

 

Gabriel’s mind clears at last when he comes down and the smoldering inferno dancing along his spine calms for a time.

 

He takes stock.

 

He’s sitting in Jack’s lap, resting against his chest, his love still in the throes of his own orgasm. Alpha orgasms take longer to reach but last longer too. Especially during a rut. They’re tied by Jack’s knot and they’re going to be tied for at least half an hour. And they should have between half an hour and another hour after that before the fire in Gabriel’s veins starts clawing at his skin once more.

 

He passes a hand in Jack’s hair, rocking gently to help ease him down, purring contentedly when his love lets out a helpless, inarticulate but definitely pleased sound. He commits his love’s expression to memory, the way he has a thousand times before. Jack’s arms relax, his locked embrace loosening at last and his eyelashes flutter, revealing the yellow, the black, that replaced the blue Gabriel still mourns.

 

_I could ask the technicians to change the color, you know._ Jack had offered one of the times they’d talked about it.

_But it wouldn_ _’t be the same._ Gabriel had replied.

 

Jack’s tired but satisfied gaze searches Gabriel’s, yellow locking with the black that replaced the hazel of his own eyes, and Gabriel pushes the thought away.

 

“Hey, love.” He breathes against his sunshine’s lips, swallowing the happy grunt it earns him.

 

“Hey, gorgeous.” The love of his life rasps back once his lips are free again.

 

Gabriel thinks. “You locked the door. That’s what you were doing.”

 

“Mhm. And Sombra shut down Athena, using the back door you implemented for her last year, so we’re still in the clear.”

 

Jack stretches carefully, smile faltering and- Copper. Gabriel had smelled copper. Gabriel growls and pulls Jack’s chest flush against his own to check on his love’s back. Eight long and irregular scratches, turning to ten over his shoulders, that Gabriel left with his finger- Claws. He’s still got _claws_. Fucking dammit. Jack’s giving him a look, patient, waiting to see if Gabriel will want to pick _that_ discussion where they’d left it last time but-

 

Gabriel clenches around the knot still swollen, still buried inside of him, startling a groan out of his love. No, he doesn’t feel like talking about that. Not right now. Not today.

 

Jack grumbles, rumble transmitting back to Gabriel, who purrs instinctively back.

 

“Babe…Not that I’m complaining but- _How?_ ”

 

Gabriel sighs. That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it. “I don’t know.”

 

Jack observes him, his unblinking gaze making it feel like an eternity before Jack tilt his head, just a fraction, offering-

 

The scar of their first bond is almost invisible now, a slightly lighter ring on Jack’s skin. A ring that had tied them for almost thirty years, closer than any other ring could ever come close of hoping to.

 

“Jack-” Gabriel murmurs, emotion choking his voice.

 

“We might not get another chance.” Jack says softly, eyes searching, patient, ever so patient as Gabriel hovers, trying to decide. He wants to mark Jack. He wants their bond back. Their joined scent. His sunshine’s heart dancing along his own in his chest. But-

 

“Don’t you want …?” He says, uncertainty heavy in his voice as he tilts his own head slightly, the gesture making him deeply uncomfortable but- Jack has worn, borne his mark for decades. Gabriel feels like he should at least offer. His love’s gaze follows the line of his bared throat before locking back with his. Then Jack leans to press his mouth to the front of Gabriel’s throat, stealing his breath in the same movement. But …there’s not even a hint of teeth as his lips kiss and worship his skin for a minute or five or twenty. Gabriel loses track of how long passes.

 

Jack comes up eventually and there’s that hint of alpha stubbornness in the line of his shoulders, in the intensity of his gaze as he tilts Gabriel’s face down to look him in the eye.

 

“I want to bear your mark. I am your mate. My heart, my soul, my life. Everything I _am_. It’s yours, Gabe. It’s always been yours. It will always be yours. I wouldn’t have it another way.”

 

Gabriel shivers, breathes, “Fuck, I love you.” And steals those lips one more time, finding their owner more than wiling to reciprocate.

 

“Good.” Jack rumbles when Gabriel finally lets him breathe again. “Now, bite me like you missed me, babe.”

 

Gabriel groans. “I can’t believe you just made that reference. I take it back. I can’t let you corrupt our son like that.”

 

Jack laughs and Gabriel’s false seriousness soon gives way to a brilliant grin.

 

He leans forward, kisses Jack’s skin reverently before asking quietly, “Ready?”

 

“Always.”

 

Gabriel bites.

 


End file.
